Road to Redemption
by Paul Benjamin Callahan
Summary: Redemption is on their mind. They'll do anything to get it. Anything, even if it isn't exactly legal. The road to redemption is long and hard, but that can only mean one thing: the end will be so much sweeter.


**_This was a project I worked on a while back. Wrote about three chapters and called it quits, so I could work on my Fallout fics. I decided to give it another go. For my Fallout readers who got a notification for this: sorry. Some people wanted me to bring it back. Hope you enjoy._**

* * *

The blast of fireworks and the screams of thousands of fans filled the air at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts. With these sounds, another competitive season of drum corps came to a close. After two and a half months, the season drew to a close as this year's victor was crowned. The stadium remained packed as the spectators eagerly awaiting the champion, Spirit of Springfield, to perform their victory performance.

Every year, drum corps and drum corps fans like anticipated the upcoming Drum Corps of America summer season. Young musicians, ages 15 to 21, could audition in the fall or winter for a spot on North America's finest drum corps. The top twenty five of these corps are the Division I corps. These are the prestigious corps, whose spots are fought for and coveted. Among these corps are the Silver Knights, Cleveland Sound, Mountaineers, and this year's champion, Spirit of Springfield. These corps, over the summer, tour North America, competing for the top spot, and pleasing the crowd.

In the stadium, the crowd cheers as Spirit takes the field.

_"On the field, from Springfield, Missouri!" _the announcer calls out loudly; excitedly. _"Performing their 2013 production, _'The Waters of Life,' _Drum Corps of America is proud to present...your gold medalist...SPIRIT OF SPRINGFIELD!" _

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause. Many of the horn players, percussionists, and guard members of Spirit are crying in their place on the field. Their black and gold uniforms seem to shine brightly as they stand at attention, awaiting their drum major's call.

_"Drum major Ethan Williams...IS YOUR CORP READY?" _Spirit's drum major turns to face the crowd, still on their feet and cheering. He gives a crisp salute, and takes off his shako. Red tear marks stream down his face. This is his last year, his age-out, and now he has two gold medals under his name. Turning around, he raises his hands. The drum major backfield raises his, and the brass raise their horns. Energetically, Spirit begins their victory run. Everyone is happy.

Almost everyone.

Outside in the parking lot, The Down'Easters sluggishly gather around their buses, waiting for their director to speak to them. Many are red faced and crying much like Spirit, but these are not tears of joy. These are tears of sadness, disappointment, and failure. If they weren't crying, their eyes were downcast and gloomy.

The Down'Easters had just completed their eleventh year of Division I DCA competition. For fifteen years The Down'Easters had been a competitor in Drum Corps of America, the first four being in Division II. While in Division II, the corps had moved up exponentially. In their fourth year, they were the Division II runner-up, and were offered a spot to compete in Division I. The corps' staff gratefully accepted. Eleven years in the top class had done them well: their best finish was second, and their lowest finish came in their first year of Division I competition; twentieth. They had made finals for ten years running. Only the top twelve at semifinals make finals; the top seventeen at quarterfinals make semifinals. The Down'Easters had only missed semifinals once.

Until this year.

The 2013 DCA season had been quite different for the Down'Easters. Their production was entitled "Long Journey Home." Their repertoire consisted of Night on Bald Mountain, Adagio for Strings, and Don Juan. At the start of the season, after six months of anticipation, The Down'Easters scored a lowly 57.16 at their first show. Corps and fans alike were shocked. When it came down to quarterfinals, they scored a 73.5, placing eighteenth; missing semifinals by one place. Disappointed, the corps had watched semifinals and finals from the stands.

Kelly Davis appeared to take it the worst. The man who held the position of corps director had been at The Down'Easters since their beginning fifteen years earlier. He had started as the brass caption head, slowly moving his way up the ranks. The year before their second-place finish, Kelly had taken over the reigns of the corps from their original director, Kenneth Stallworth. The next year they finished second place, and Kelly Davis launched his corps into stardom.

In 2012, The Down'Easters finished third with their production "Heart of Darkness," taking home caption awards in percussion and brass. Fans anticipated the 2013 Down'Easters greatly. Many thought a gold medal was in their future. Fate had other plans.

Over the past two days, since hearing their placement, Kelly had wallowed in the despair of his corps' failure. He questioned the reason behind the disappointing season. Secretly, in his own confidence, he guessed it was the design staff, including himself, who were at fault. He couldn't bring himself to blame the kids. The only blame he gave was to himself. It was simple: he had designed a poor show, and directed a poor show. At semifinals and finals he sat alone, watching the other corps perform. Alone, he watched Spirit win gold, and he knew that should be his drum major accepting the award.

Now, he stood in the center of his corp. Their faces told him all he needed to know. Sighing, fought back tears. As he glanced around him, he saw staff mixed in with the members. Many of the staff were gathered around kids they had become close with. A few kids had been with him five years, since that awesome silver medal was handed out. A lot of the faces he glimpsed were young members still able to return the following year. He knew many would. However, he knew a lot would not return; many had aged-out at the graduation during finals.

_This is always the hardest part...especially this year. _He thought.

"Well, here we are," he began, trying to remain cheerful. "This is the end. We've had a great - if not different - year. Sure, it was hard. Sure, we didn't do as well as we had hoped. But, I have had the privilege of directing, coaching, and mentoring you fine kids this season. I couldn't have asked for a better group of kids. And as our time here comes to an end, here by the buses were it began, I am as happy a man as I was when I first took over." Some members were crying, he noticed.

"For you age-outs: I hope that I made your time here as enjoyable as I could. The staff thanks you for your years of service. We have come close, and we wish you the best of luck in whatever you do. For you younger members: have a safe winter, and we hope to see you at audition camps in November. Now, we got a long drive back to San Francisco. Circle up. Will, do your thing." Kelly motioned for Will Evans, the drum major, to come to the center.

After every show, the corp would circle around Will, and sing their corp song, Everybody Has a Dream. It was a moment looked forward to by all members, including some other traditions. Will stepped to the center, and raised his hands. He counted them off. Kelly watched him. When the corps started singing, he closed his eyes.

_While in these days of quiet desperation  
As I wander through the world in which I live  
I search everywhere for some new inspiration  
But it's more than cold reality can give  
If I need a cause for celebration  
Or a comfort I can use to ease my mind  
I rely on my imagination  
And I dream of an imaginary time_

Will's conducting grew bigger with each line, causing the corp, as a whole, to crescendo as they moved to the chorus. Will cued them with bigger hand motions as they sang:

_ I know that everybody has a dream_  
_Everybody has a dream, everybody has a dream_  
_And this is my dream, my own_  
_Just to be at home and to be all alone with you_

The powerful gospel chords echoed around the parking lot. Most of the members were crying, standing at attention as they sang. Kelly saw most of the staff in tears as well, and felt some trickle down his cheeks too. Will kept on going, the corp following his hands perfectly in time. The volume grew with each word.

_If I believe in all the words I'm saying  
And if a word from you can bring a better day  
Then all I have are these games that I've been playing  
To keep my hope from crumbling away  
So let me lie and let me go on sleeping  
And I will lose myself in palaces of sand  
And all the fantasies that I will be keeping  
Will make the empty hours easier... easier to stand!_

Will was practically jumping, moving with the rhythm of his hands. As they went up, his body lifted off the ground by a fraction. As they went down, his knees bent and he moved down as if gravity were dragging him back. The singing was at its climax. Kelly's tears fell, as he realized the season was coming to a finite close.

_I know that everybody has a dream, oh oh, everybody has a dream  
I know that everybody has a dream  
Everybody has a dream  
Everybody has a dream  
Everybody has a dream_

As they were cued, the corp decrescendo-ed...leading into one final crescendo. The crescendo to beat all crescendos.

_Everybody has a dreeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaam! _

Will's face contorted in anger, hands outstretched, begging the corp for more. They gave it to them. Each of the members pushed and projected the final chord with an intensity that seemed to blow Kelly away. Eyes wide open, tears coming forth, he watched as Will cut them off. Through their sadness and disappointment, he saw their eyes light up with pride and he heard their cheers of happiness. Kelly even felt a smile creep across his face. Will calmed the group down, and had them stand at attention. Looking back to Kelly, he raised an eyebrow in question. Kelly nodded, motioning for him to proceed.

Turning again, Will shouted, "Down'Easters! At ease, and DIS-MISSED!"

To reply, the corps chanted in unison, "DOWN EAAAAAAAAAAST!"

Again, cheers. Kelly watched them scatter, and finally load up on their selective buses. He walked over to Will as everyone loaded. They embraced.

"You're awesome, kid," Kelly fought against tears. His voice broke.

Will shook his head. "I'm just what you made me, man."

Kelly looked at him, eyes wet. "You're gonna go far, Will. We'll miss you."

"Well, you got John. He's ready," Will spoke of Johnathan Travis, his assistant drum major. Even though all members had to audition, Kelly gave the drum majors a guarantee on their position the year before. At this point, Johnathan already knew he was to be the next head drum major of The Down'Easters, if he wanted to return.

"Yeah, well, I hope you're right, Will. You ever thought about coming back?"

"And what, working for you?" Will asked.

Kelly nodded. "We may need some new caption heads after this..."

Will thought over that, and nodded. "I'll think about it, Mr. Davis."

Smiling, the two embraced again. They walked back to their bus, the administrative staff bus. As drum major, Will rode whichever bus he so chose to ride. He took a seat a few rows behind Kelly, sitting next to the young percussion coordinator. Kelly sat behind the driver, a seat to himself, and - attempted, at least - to stretch out his legs. As the buses pulled out and began the long trek back to San Francisco, Kelly looked out the window at the passing landscape. Memories flooded him: of his younger marching years; him when he was a new man in a new corps; and of the past five years as the director of The Down'Easters. Before he drifted off to sleep, he thought of Emma. The thought of her made tears come to his eyes; her memory and of this season.

It was the first time in a long time Kelly had cried himself to sleep.


End file.
